


Rosehip

by Misaya



Series: Teacup and Saucer [11]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Come Shot, Established Levi/Erwin Smith, Established Relationship, Facials, Hand Jobs, Inspired By Tumblr, Light-Hearted, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pyre, kindling, tinder, ready to be set ablaze, and Erwin is full of matches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosehip

In the end, it’s a cold that undoes him. Levi barges into his quarters unceremoniously the instant that someone informs him that the commander isn’t yet up. The door all but slams against the wall, cracking the plaster and paint in a chalky shower. 

He finds Erwin still in bed, covers pulled up to his chin, sniffling miserably, eyes red and watery, his voice hoarse when he turns to Levi and wishes him a good morning. It’s anything but, and Levi only just manages to not recoil in horror as Erwin hacks up half a lung. He’s irrationally glad he’s spent the past two weeks in his own room, in irritation at Erwin for something or other. Drastic misuse of government funds, filing expense reports, a reason blown out the window by how hard Erwin is coughing.

Erwin bats at Levi’s hand ineffectually as Levi approaches the bed, frowning as he places a palm on Erwin’s forehead to find it heated against his skin. Erwin’s hair is damp, gold sweating against his fingertips, and Levi wrinkles his nose in faint disgust. 

“I’ll tell Mike to address the new recruits,” Levi says, rolling his eyes at Erwin’s feeble attempts to prop himself up. “No. You lie down, or so help me God.” The half-implied threat in his voice has Erwin cowering under the sheets, a lump dissolving beneath the sheets, and Levi bites at the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh. 

He bangs out of the room again, footsteps patting off down the hallway to the kitchens.

* * *

 

When Levi comes back, a tea tray in his hands, he finds Erwin struggling to untangle himself from the sheets. He kicks the door open - plaster showers, again - and tuts as he sets the tea tray down on the nightstand.

“You’re hopeless,” he informs Erwin, pushing light against his shoulder and plopping him back into bed. “Big, strong commander.” He snorts. Laughable. “Have some tea. You’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Erwin grumbles, hoarse, as Levi props him up, fluffing the pillows behind him and prodding the tea into his hands. It’s tangy, tartly sweet against his tongue, the acidity of citrus cutting through the numbness of his tastebuds. 

“Rosehip,” Levi informs him as he wrings out a towel over a bowl, water splashes. He drapes cool cotton over Erwin's forehead. “It’s good for your throat. Your digestion, too. You know. To help the shit come out.”

Erwin laughs, hoarse, his voice rattling around in his chest. “Your bluntness becomes you.” 

“Mm.” Levi pats at Erwin’s cheeks with another towel. “Save your breath, why don’t you? You’ve got to get better quickly.”

“Oh?” Erwin takes another mouthful of rosehip. It tastes like what he expects the color magenta would, expensive, floral, exquisite, and he presses a small kiss to Levi’s shoulder. “And why’s that?” 

Levi rolls his eyes. "You can't fuck me like this, now can you?" he asks, rhetorically, as Erwin falls into another bout of coughing, hoarse rattles in his chest. 

"Crass as always, aren't you?" Erwin manages, once it's subsided. He takes another sip of tea. "I'm dying here and all you can think about is sex?" 

Levi shrugs. "It's a pressing matter," he responds. He gets up, the mattress springs squeaking and bouncing back into position. "And don't be dramatic. You've got a little fever. Not typhoid." 

Erwin takes a moment to leer appreciatively at the curve of Levi's ass, at the way the morning sunlight shines through the thin white cotton of Levi's shirt to illuminate creamy skin squirreled away beneath the fabric. He hasn't put on his straps and belts yet, and Erwin thinks that it would be easy, simple even, to wriggle the fabric down over milky thighs and - 

"You're dying and all you can think about is sex?" Levi mimics, catching Erwin grinning rather deliriously at the general vicinity of his crotch. "You're a filthy old man." 

Erwin brushes aside the taunt as he places the rapidly cooling mug of tea back on the nightstand. He leans forward, fingers clumsy, fumbling at the buttons on Levi's pants, and Levi, for all his mockery, falls silent and watches Erwin work the metal through the slot. Zip. 

"It's been a while," Erwin mumbles, tugging Levi unceremoniously out of his underwear, out of the opened V of his pants. "I missed it." 

"You didn't miss me?" Levi asks, almost incredulously. Almost, because Erwin leans forward to press a fond kiss to the head of his cock, still limp and soft with disbelief. Almost, because two weeks without Erwin makes him sensitive and the kiss quivers a spark of heat to jolt through his bloodstream. A pyre, kindling, tinder, ready to be set ablaze, and Erwin is full of matches. 

Erwin looks up at him, hands curling around the swells of Levi's hips, a witty retort on the tip of his tongue that gets swept away with another wave of coughs. The kindling dampens, and Levi pulls away, his nose wrinkling in disgust, making to tuck himself back into his pants. 

"Wait," Erwin all but whines, flapping at Levi's hands. "I wanna taste."

Levi scoffs. "You're not sucking me off with that germ-infested mouth of yours," he murmurs, but an idea's already started to spark in his mind. Erwin is mouthing ineffectually at his hip, and Levi threads his hand through damp gold, pulling back Erwin's head to look up at him. Roses dance fields across the planes of his cheekbones, fever flush, petals of his lips parted and waiting for the morning dew. "But how can I refuse a dying man's last request?"

He pushes Erwin back against the pillows, soft sighs like spring breezes, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he lowers himself onto it. His knees make divots in the meadow of the bedspread as he kneels over Erwin, reaching down to take himself in hand. Familiar comforts, made only the more exciting with the way Erwin's eyes flicker from his face to his hand, undecided what to focus on. 

One stroke, two strokes, three strokes, four. Erwin's eyelashes flutter, delicate butterflies in an orchard, and Levi gnaws at the swell of his lower lip as he stokes the curl of heat in the pit of his belly into a fire. 

He works himself over, burning quickly, steel stiffening beneath silk, collecting sticky liquid with his palm. Erwin watches breathlessly, eyes lidded. Delirious. Delicious. 

"Be a good boy, now," Levi murmurs, his voice catching at a particularly lovely stroke, the flat of his palm rubbing over the gently weeping head. Erwin nods, slow motion, riveted, mesmerized. Levi's hand fists tighter in Erwin's hair. 

The soft schlupping sound of Levi's hand around his cock grows faster, tinder crackling and falling victim to the blaze. It stutters, sparks popping, when Erwin's hand dawdles up from the bedspread, curls of smoke, to wrap itself around Levi's left hip. His thumb digs weakly into the taut skin stretched tight over the hollow of his hip, massaging, and Levi whines low in his throat, pressing forward for more. 

Levi watches Erwin watching him, rapt attention focused on the way the flushed head of his cock peeps out from the tight circle of his fist on every upwards stroke, slicking fluid across his fingers. Five, six, seven, eight. 

He sighs, almost disappointed, almost wanton. Close already, although he can't be surprised, even as he tenses, clenching around nothing, emptiness. But he'll make do with what he's got, leaning forward just the tiniest bit to smear a gleam across Erwin's jaw, entranced by the way Erwin swallows roughly, the shadow of his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

"Please, Levi." In the end, it's two words that undoes him, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, and he bites at his lip, choking on sobs as he spills strings of pearls across erwin's face to dance silver across Erwin's cheekbones a jeweled chandelier. Erwin sighs with satisfaction, licking at his lips, utterly debauched, and Levi wants to savor the moment forever. 

He tucks himself back into his pants gently. Erwin is the picture of contentment, already drowsing off, and Levi is almost tempted to leave him like that, come drying on his face and at the corners of his mouth. Almost, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, and he leans over to the nightstand to wet the washcloth again.


End file.
